


Answered Invocations

by SillyBlue



Series: Pagan Gods Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, First Meetings, M/M, Missionary Castiel, Pagan God Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't believe in pagan gods but when his niece is in danger of dying, he is desperate enough to pray to the local god Dean. Pagan gods don't exist and rune stones don't answer but maybe just this once they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answered Invocations

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [my pagan god Dean verse](http://pagangoddean.tumblr.com/). I've drawn their first meeting, but I was tempted to write about it too, so I did! :D

 

If Castiel had to find one single word to describe his first two weeks of being a missionary living in the monastery of St. Michaels, he would not be hard pressed to choose solitude.

As the abbot had promised, the monastery lay dormant with most of the resident monks choosing to spend the colder and darker months in the small city. While Castiel preferred the pale green hills and the small cottages and farms of St. Michael’s village to the narrow and busy streets of the city, the loneliness always got to him.

The monastery building itself was nice. It had been built around 200 years ago and stood proudly in a plain, with gardens and orchards. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was surprisingly ornate. The corridors were filled with paintings, mostly of the venerable archangel Michael, sometimes locked in battle with Satan, sometimes contemplative. The one closest to Castiel’s room showed him in the habit of the local people and not in armor or richly decorated robes. It was probably the simplest picture but the one that Castiel liked the best.

The abbot, proud of his collection of paintings, the state of his library and the beer in his cellar had told him that the support that this church got from Castiel’s family was well appreciated and put to good use. Of course, the abbot had spoken with the people in the small Christian settlement in mind, but Castiel couldn’t help wonder if he didn’t rather spend it on decorating the monastery. Castiel kept his thoughts to himself and was glad about the luxuries he would have access to during his mission. He would have to do a lot of work, because as he had found out from the people in the city, the small Christian settlement hadn’t grown in the last 200 years, even though Christianity’s advent was unstopped in pretty much all the other places of Europe. Why was that the case? Why didn’t more people come here to settle and turn the hamlet into a proper village?

Castiel had started that first day of his mission with passion, raising early to not miss any prayers or breakfast. But when he had strolled into the chapel he found it empty. The two monks that were still here were sleeping in their rooms, not interested in starting the day just yet. The abbot had already left again, eager to be on his way back to the town. He was too advanced in age for the cold of the monastery, he had argued with a smile and referred Castiel to Chuck, a scribe who had been in the monastery for a couple of years. He wasn’t really a monk and when Castiel found him slumped over the table in the kitchen, with a toppled over tankard next to his elbow he thought that he looked more like a vagabond than someone who would want to live in a monastery. But despite his oddness and lack of interest in matters of religion, Chuck was still the only person that seemed even interested in talking to Cas. But usually Chuck was in the cellar or locked into his room, writing. What he wrote Castiel didn’t know and Chuck was secretive about it. Castiel merely hoped it was nothing that would get him into trouble and let him be.

His main job in the monastery was cooking, cleaning and tending to the garden. It was hardly dignified, but he was a guest here and had received harsher treatment before. So he bore the solitude and the lack of being able to speak to people with patience. Soon enough his brother and family would move into the village. Until then he could focus on learning more about the Christians in the close-by settlement and the families in the bigger village that yet refrained to pledge themselves to Christianity.

The Christian families were friendly when they saw him, interested in his travels, but Castiel felt a certain reluctance on their part to talk to him. Which was hardly a surprise, seeing as Castiel was a foreigner.

“The church is there, but it doesn’t really do much for us,” one mother had told him in secrecy, when she had found him sitting on the hill overlooking the settlement. She had a child on her hip who made out to reach for the little wooden figurine that Castiel was carving. “You’re good at that,” she said, momentarily distracted. Castiel smiled up at her and handed the simple figure to the child.

“I like to keep my hands busy when I’m thinking,” he explained and put his knife away for later. “What did you mean?” The woman blushed but then her expression became sterner.

“It doesn’t support us. There were years where our harvests failed and we were hungry. The monks left the monastery behind, running to the city like cowards.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Castiel told her honestly. “What did you do? Who helped you?” The woman heaved a sigh and seemed to hesitate. “Did the pagan villagers help you? I heard they are very friendly.” That was apparently the right thing to say, because the woman stopped fretting.

“Yes… Please don’t think badly of me, but I had a young child whose health was failing rapidly…” Castiel shook his head, a promise in his smile. “Praying to God didn’t help… So I… I carved his name into a piece of wood and burned it in the hearth. And he answered. The fields were fertile again almost overnight.” Castiel looked at her in surprise.

“Whose name?” he asked and the woman nodded her head towards one of the high stones with carvings on it that stood some meters away from them, close to a tree.

“ _His_ name. Dean,” she told him, her voice a whisper. Despite his surprise, Castiel thanked her and wished her a good day when she excused herself. He saw her walk away, passing the stone. She quickly kneeled down and put a flower on the foot of the stone. The child reached out and put the wooden carving Castiel had made next to it. The mother shot Castiel a look but he nodded at her and she let her child proceed. Then they were on their way, leaving Castiel to his thoughts.

* * *

 

When Jimmy finally moved into the biggest, previously empty house of the small settlement, Castiel’s mood improved considerably. He had been mostly locked into his room as the rain had been falling heavily for the last couple of days. Castiel knew it was good for the land, but the monastery’s vegetable field looked terrible and Castiel had no idea if anyone even tended to it. So he had worked on it once the rain let up a bit, under the bemused eyes of Chuck.

“We can just get things from the farms. They have to deliver to us,” Chuck told him, “nobody even looks after this garden.”

“That’s a shame then. There’s no need to put a burden on the farmers if we can grow our own things,” Castiel had argued and that had been the end of the discussion for him. He was sore, dirty and wet when he finally knocked on Jimmy’s door. Castiel could see carts with furniture and chests standing in the small barn, so they hadn’t properly moved in yet. His brother opened the door, looking tired but he still smiled at Castiel and hugged him.

“What weather. It’s like God has forsaken this cold patch of land,” Jimmy said and guided him through the house and into the kitchen which was reasonably warm and fully furnished already. The house looked great, like the house for nobility. Suited for Jimmy, Amelia and Claire.

“Where are Amelia and Claire?” Castiel asked and Jimmy sighed. He turned towards the oven and pulled out a pie. That didn’t bode too well. Castiel knew Jimmy to bake when he was feeling restless.

“Claire’s sick in bed. Amelia’s tending to her,” Jimmy mumbled and Castiel saw how tense his twin was. Claire hadn’t been blessed with a strong constitution like her parents. Her health had always been a concern.

“Did you call a doctor?” Castiel asked and Jimmy shot him a dark look.

“What doctor, Cas? We’re pretty much out in the wilderness here,” he spat but immediately deflated. He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry… I’m just tired. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “The village seems to be at a bit of an impasse. They haven’t expanded much and there’s been a bit of grumbling in the village about a fence that has been erected recently.”

“Yes, I’ve read about that. The thing is that while the monastery has received explicit permission to build a small settlement here, the land doesn’t really belong to the church,” Jimmy explained. He left the kitchen and promptly returned with a scroll. When he put it on the table Castiel found it to be a map of the region. There were more marks for rune stones than villages. The pagan village was of a reasonable size, dwarfing St. Michael’s village. “The lands officially belong to Dean. I saw the scroll. Signed by the king centuries back and still binding.”

“Dean? You mean the local god?” Castiel asked in surprise and Jimmy snorted.

“Yes. The monastery cannot legally purchase more and the fence they erected technically lies outside of the land they’ve been given. I’ve talked to some of the people and they’ve been worried to be met with bad harvests come autumn. For Christians they are surprisingly governed by ridiculous superstition.”

“Most Christians are superstitious. You leave offerings for fairies because you fear they will steal your cooling bread on the window sill otherwise,” Castiel reminded his brother and Jimmy colored slightly.

“They took my bread!”

“The neighbor’s kids took your bread, Jimmy,” Castiel told him with a laugh but Jimmy would not be convinced. They talked some more, but then Jimmy excused himself because he had to see how Claire was doing and let Amelia rest. Castiel hugged him and promised to pray for her swift recovery.

* * *

 

Castiel’s good mood lasted for only two days. When he next visited his brother, he looked much more haggard than before.

“Is everything alright?”

“Nothing’s alright,” Jimmy spat, stepping out into the fresh air of the evening and closing the door behind him. Castiel blinked at him in surprise, unsure if Jimmy had just denied him access to his house. “Claire’s health has been in rapid decline. Her fever is getting higher and she hasn’t opened her eyes in hours!” Castiel took a step back at the loudness of Jimmy’s voice.

“I will run to the pagan village and get you a doctor, I am sure that no matter their beliefs, they must have medicine,” Castiel told him but Jimmy only glared at him, his eyes bloodshot. “And I can get one of the monks to come here to watch over her.” Jimmy shook his head. “Please, Jimmy. Just let me help.”

“We’ve come here for you, Cas,” Jimmy said sharply and Castiel’s eyes widened. “The only reason we’ve left our home is for you. You asked us to come with you! And I was stupid enough to agree! And now we’re up here in this cold, wet place and Claire is dying. Cas! My child is _dying_!” Tears ran down Jimmy’s face and his expression was a mix of anguish and anger. “All your prayers are worth nothing up here! And if Claire dies?” Jimmy bit his lips, then he turned around and went back inside, slamming the door in Castiel’s face.

Castiel stood before Jimmy’s house for a long time, rooted to the spot, while his feelings were swirling inside of him. Most of all he felt fear and sadness. It was almost dark by the time he finally dared to move. He didn’t want to go where he wasn’t welcome and he was sure that praying for his niece at her bedside was not what Jimmy wanted now. He would have to pray alone and beg God to help her. He pressed the back of his fingers to his mouth, to not let a sob of despair escape his lips.

“Hey.” Castiel came to a stop and turned around to find the woman he had talked to standing in her open door way. She held out a small pouch to him. Castiel hesitated, but then he went to get it.

“What is this?” he asked and she smiled at him.

“I heard about Lord Novak’s child and thought you might need more help?” she said and Castiel looked at the small pouch in his hands. “I know that you trust in God and you believe in help from above but… sometimes you need to take the help of what is around you. You can’t always wait for Heaven to intervene.” She reached out to close his fingers around the pouch. “Visit Dean. It can’t hurt.” Castiel didn’t react much so the woman patted his cheek and then she went back inside. Castiel looked at the pouch and then pulled at the string to look inside. He could see flower petals and coal. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest, but he pocketed the pouch and walked.

* * *

 

It took him almost an hour in the dark to find the main circle. Darkness had long fallen but the stars and the moon shone brightly, illuminating the stones of the road. The rune stones along the road guided him back to the hill and finally he found himself in the middle of the stone circle.

Up here it was silent.

He turned to look over his shoulder and saw the faint glimmering of light. One of the flames would be shining out of Claire’s window, where here parents hoped and feared and prayed. Castiel stepped up to the main stone, seeing the god Dean smile down at him. But it wasn’t mocking. Castiel wasn’t sure why he had expected this stone etching to know that he was doing something wrong by asking the favor of a god. A god that didn’t exist in anything but the people’s imagination. The real God might be looking down at Cas right now, shaking his head at his weakness. But Castiel would make it up to him. His whole life he would be making up for his weaknesses.

Castiel placed the offering at the foot of the stone and then he stood to look into the face of Dean. He slowly raised his hands and put them on the stone. The sun had long since been gone but the stone was still warm under his palms. Almost comforting.

“Please. If you can hear me. If you exist. My niece is sick and she needs help.”

Castiel wasn’t sure how the heathens did it. Did he have to say more? Did he have to pray? Did he have to spill blood? Did they believe that the god would answer? Castiel waited for some time, feeling chilled but his fingers were at least warm.

When he felt that his soul was in less tumult and his mind a bit rested, he removed his hands and took a few steps back. He bowed to the stone and then he turned around, to make his way back to the monastery.

All he could do now was wait and pray.

* * *

 

With his brother so angry at him and the guilt for not putting all of his faith in God’s plan for all of them, Castiel spent most of his night in turmoil. He stared into the empty fireplace, which he could see from his bed. He was shivering, feeling that if he came down with an illness due to his night out among the rune stones, it would only be just.

“You look like shit,” Chuck said and Castiel crossly thought that it was rich coming from the likes of Chuck, who looked like he had spent his night in the beer cellar. “There’s a guest for you, by the way.” That made Castiel look up from the grain he poured into the small cauldron hanging over the fire. A small breakfast of gruel would probably put his spirits back in Castiel’s body. He hardly had the heart for visitors, but he still went into the entrance hall. When he saw Jimmy sitting on the stool, looking at the painting of the archangel Gabriel blowing a trumpet at him, Castiel broke into a run, worry making his stomach churn.

“Jimmy!” His brother tore his gaze away from the painting and got up at once. “What happened!” Before Castiel could ask more, a basket was pushed into his chest. Castiel looked at his brother in confusion and then into the basket where he could see a pie, some bread and cheese. “What is this?”

“I was an ass to you yesterday,” Jimmy confessed and Castiel remembered their conversation with a pang of sadness. “So uh… I’m sorry.” Castiel looked at his brother, feeling sadness make his eyes water. Jimmy seemed to notice at once. “Claire’s fever broke,” he said quickly. “She slept peacefully and woke up with a smile and a healthy appetite.”

“This….” Castiel was speechless. Jimmy laughed faintly.

“It’s a miracle. I’m sorry I doubted the power of your prayers, Cas. And I’m sorry for what I said…”

“You don’t have to apologize. You were right after all. You don’t have to be here.” Jimmy sighed and reached out to give Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze.

“We will talk about this later… How about you have breakfast and then come visit in the afternoon? I’m sure Claire would be happy to see you.” Castiel nodded and let Jimmy give him a bit of an awkward hug, the basket between them.

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it,” Jimmy said and with a last doubtful look at the painting of Gabriel, he left the monastery.

Castiel’s happiness about Claire’s recovery was overshadowed by all the questions he felt in his breast. Had God, in his eternal mercy, healed Claire? Or had Castiel’s offering to the god Dean been what spared her? Was it a coincidence? Was God teaching him to be humble by healing Claire when Castiel had placed his faith in a false god?

Castiel lowered his head when he passed beneath the cross that hung on the wall, ashamed.

* * *

 

Seeing Claire sitting up in bed, her cheeks a healthier pink than he had ever seen on the 10 year old made all of Castiel’s doubts evaporate. His niece was alright and that was the most important thing.

“I dreamt that a flickering fire stood in my way,” Claire said with a smile when she watched Castiel carve next to her bedside. He was trying to make a bear for her. “It was so warm. And a hand brushed over my forehead. The voice sounded like fire and I didn’t understand the words.” She snatched the half-finished bear from Castiel’s hands and put a new piece of wood from the bedside table on Castiel’s lap. What she wanted himto make wasn’t clear but she was busy admiring the bear even with its weird unfinished shape that made it look more like it had its behind stuck in a barrel.

“I’m glad she’s better,” Castiel told Claire’s tired looking parents.

“The worst is over now,” Amelia agreed and she wiped her hair out of her face. “It’s so good to see her smile again. I truly thought we were going to lose her this time.” Jimmy clasped her hands in his, giving them a strong squeeze. Castiel gave both of them a hug and promised to visit more.

“You’ve got to have dinner with us. You’re only bones and skin,” Jimmy complained, his voice carrying across the yard between his house and the stone fence that Castiel just crossed. Castiel simply lifted his hand and was on his way. Castiel passed the village and the woman who had given him the pouch looked out of the window. Castiel slowly nodded at her and she brought her hands together in prayer. Castiel ducked his head and hurried on, still not comfortable with what he had done. But whatever god has answered, Castiel had to be grateful.

* * *

 

The days following saw a swift and remarkable recovery on Claire’s part. Before long she was actually running out in the cold air, soaking in the still shy rays of spring sun and draping herself across the lower rune stones like a lizard craving for warmth. Castiel had spent many years away from home, but he knew from the letters that his family sent him that Claire had never been this healthy. Castiel knew not to question this blessing.

“Have you heard that gods and monsters live here?? You never told me that your missions were adventures!” Claire complained when Chuck had let her into the monastery. Now she was watching Castiel weed. Currently the garden had more weed than vegetables, but he was determined to change it. “I can’t speak the language yet or read the inscriptions, but the pictures are great! There’s this one of a god in a coat cutting the head off a dragon!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! And in others he spreads his arms wide, wide and there are lots of houses in his arms! And fires are burning around him!” Castiel nodded along as she continued to talk. “The god’s name is Dean and you can ask him to keep the fires burning or to watch over your family. He also makes things grow!”

“This sounds exciting, but you know who also did wonderful things?” Castiel asked and pulled at a very resilient weed. Claire heaved a sigh.

“Jesus,” she said.

“Yes, Jesus,” Castiel agreed.

“Daddy says the same thing. But gods here are interesting. They’re closer. Jesus is far away up in Heaven. I don’t think he would answer if I asked him a question,” she girl muttered and Castiel had to laugh at that.

“And you think a stone would answer?” Castiel said but Claire seemed determined. He might be a missionary but it was not his task to raise her. So if she enjoyed the tales of the pagan gods he would not try to discourage her interest. And it wasn’t like Cas didn’t share her interest. He had always been fond of the old stories and the old gods. They were the grounds on which many of their customs and cultures had been built. Just because they had made progress didn’t mean that there was no more values in the old ways. Divinity showed itself in different forms, of that Cas was sure.

“Can you make me a figurine?” Claire asked, calling Castiel out of his thoughts. He looked towards her and saw Claire pushing a stick into the earth. She was drawing something that was hard to recognize but he guessed it was the face of the smiling god.

“Of him?” Castiel asked and Claire nodded eagerly.

“It seems only courteous to introduce yourself to the lord of the land,” she said and dropped the stick to do a formal curtsey. Castiel laughed at that.

“I suppose you’re right,” Castiel agreed. “It will be done,” he promised. He had to go there himself to thank him. Just in case that Dean had listened.

* * *

 

It took Castiel almost a week before he had enough time to go on a leisurely stroll. The abbot and some of his friends from other monasteries in Scandinavia had come to visit and to shake hands with both Castiel and Jimmy. Fortunately they had been more interested in staying in Jimmy’s house where there were comfortable guest quarters and servants to tend to them. As Jimmy didn’t have a cook yet, Castiel had helped out in the kitchens, happy to stay in the shadows even though his missionary effort was the reason that the house of Novak supported St. Michaels with money. But Castiel preferred when attention wasn’t drawn to him and Jimmy knew how to entertain guests even when they weren’t particularly welcome.

Once things had cooled down some, Castiel put on his cloak, stocked his bag with his knives, wood and something light to eat and then he was on his way. He reached the main circle during mid-morning and sat against a smaller stone opposite the main stone. It was so serene up here that Castiel spent some time just gazing at the landscape, enjoying the sun and the light breeze. Then he started working on the figurine. He had already made one for Claire that she had happily deposited at the shrine closest to the village. She swore that the offering had been gone the next time she checked and she was convinced that Dean had taken it. Castiel doubted that, but it was true that the pouch he had put down asking for Claire’s health had also been gone. He didn’t want to dwell on it. He was sure that the local pagan religion had their own people responsible for keeping shrines to their gods clean. Whether the offerings were taken away or not didn’t matter.

Around noon Castiel enjoyed his lunch and then he continued to work on the figurine. He looked up frequently, to compare the face etched into stone with the one he was trying to recreate with wood.

“I think I’m done,” he said, observing the small figure in his palm. There was a slight rustle next to him.

“It looks great, Castiel.” The voice was not familiar, the words spoken in the local language which Castiel had fortunately mastered by now. He turned his head to greet the stranger, but almost dropped the figurine when he got a proper look at the man before him.

The person before him was crouched low to be on his eye level. He wore a big coat that pooled around him with a soft looking fur collar. The striking thing about this stranger was his face though. His eyes were black, with a sparkling green iris. There was green paint under his eyes and two black lines drawn across his nose. The stranger’s mouth was pulled into a smile, as always. Friendly and charming, showing white teeth. Cas had seen that face a lot in the last weeks

This was Dean. The god Dean. He was sure of it. The only difference between the man before him and the etchings in the stone was…

“You have freckles…” Castiel heard himself saying and the smile of the man before him faltered slightly, confusion clearly taking over his expression.

“Huh?”

“On your face. There are no freckles on your face in the etchings.” God above, what was he even saying? There was an apparition of a heathen deity before him and he talked about his freckles?! The god – if he was indeed one – smiled again.

“Most people don’t really get to see me up close enough to know that detail about me,” he said and winked. Castiel only managed to stare at him with wide eyes. Dean pointed towards the figurine.

“Is that for me?” he asked and Castiel automatically reached out and dropped the figure into Dean’s hand. He didn’t dare to touch him. But he also pulled his bag close and pulled out a slightly sad looking leek.

“The first harvest of the gardens. I read that this was what you were offered. Not many things grow this early in the year and I’m not sure you have any use of one solitary leek,” he held it out to Dean who took it with a fond expression.

“I’m honored. Thank you, Castiel,” the god said and put both the figurine and the leek away in his coat. When he stood he was very tall and Castiel had to rise to his feet so that he didn’t feel so small and insignificant. Castiel was not a short man but the god was still quite a bit taller than him. “I have been watching you with interest ever since you first stopped by my rune stone. I was surprised that a monk would pay his regards.”

“I’m a missionary,” Castiel corrected though Dean’s smile remained. “You heard me?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “When I begged for help when my niece was sick. You heard my prayers.”

“Yes I did. I put in a good word with the goddess of death,” he said and Castiel clenched his hands into fists until his blunt nails dug into his palms. Why he was overcome with emotion he couldn’t say.

“I thank you,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and stilted. “For…” Castiel looked up at Dean, who seemed concerned, but still looked friendly. That made Castiel feel even worse. “For hearing me and for answering.”

“You’re very welcome, Castiel. It was a privilege to positively impact your life,” Dean replied gently. The next thing Castiel knew was that he had warmth pressed all across his front. His arms were wrapped around the god’s neck, the fur collar tickling Castiel’s cheeks. The embrace was too quick for Dean to properly react. Castiel retreated, unsure whether touching him had been utterly disrespectful, or even punishable. But it was an overwhelming situation.

When Castiel dared to look, Dean was blushing, but he seemed happy.

“I… I should go,” Castiel muttered and Dean nodded slowly. “Work awaits.” Dean nodded again.

“You know where to find me,” he said and Castiel looked at him in surprise. Did that mean that Dean intended to show himself to him again? “I would love to hear how you’re liking the country and how you’ve settled in.”

“Of course,” Castiel said, too surprised to do anything but agree. Dean beamed at him and somehow Castiel knew that he had made the right decision. The god lifted his hand and then he disappeared. Castiel looked around, surprised. But then he reached out, touching the main stone. The stone was solid under his palm. He wasn’t dreaming this. When he felt like he had gathered his wits, he walked out of the circle, his heart still beating quickly in his chest.

He would never have expected that on one of his journeys into pagan lands he would actually meet a pagan god. That meant the gods the people he tried to convert to his own faith actually existed.

“Lord, give me strength,” he whispered to himself.

Back in the monastery he did feel a bit more at ease, knowing that even though a person like Dean existed, his own God existed too and his teachings were good and just.

But even as he thought this and said his prayers at night, he did light a small fire in his fireplace to thank Dean for today’s meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's a comic about their first meeting](http://pagangoddean.tumblr.com/post/99233396037/dean-i-have-watched-him-for-quite-a-while-before)
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> Thanks for reading!


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